


dwelling

by bulletbulletbullet



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Domestic, Friends With Benefits, Getting Together, Implied Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-24 19:07:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30076956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bulletbulletbullet/pseuds/bulletbulletbullet
Summary: “Stay.”The single whispered word leaves his mouth unbidden before he can stop it, and Minho snaps his mouth shut, feeling hot and cold all over, his limbs shaky with fear. He can hear his own voice echoing in his head, mocking him.Jisung goes still in the doorway for a split second before he turns around. “What?”
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 18
Kudos: 179
Collections: MINSUNG BINGO: Round Two





	dwelling

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Minsung Bingo](https://twitter.com/minsungbingo)!  
>  **Prompts used:** au - neighbors, friends with benefits, domesticity
> 
> This was originally only supposed to fill the "au - neighbors" square but it snagged fwb and domesticity from my other bingo wip oops (don't worry that one still has fwb and domesticity too because I am nothing if not predictable).

“You know what I like most about people?”

Jisung speaks suddenly and apropos of nothing (something he does often), not waiting for Minho to acknowledge that he’s talking before he continues.

“Their pets.” He punctuates his statement with a gesture at Dori, snuggled up in his lap, a purring ball of striped fluff.

“Is that why you like  _ me?” _ Minho looks up from the doenjang-jjigae he’s making for dinner, peering over the kitchen counter and into the living room where Jisung and Dori are situated on his couch.

“Oh, for sure. Plus it’s so convenient, what with you being my neighbor.” Minho nods, humming absently in response as he returns to his task. “And obviously you’re great in bed.”

“Obviously.”

“And you cook!”

“Only because if I didn’t, you’d starve. Honestly, I wonder what you did before I moved in here, but I’m genuinely afraid to ask.” Minho scoops a handful of chopped tofu into the pot simmering on the stove.

“Uh, it was mostly instant ramyeon and whatever looked good at the convenience store.”

Minho can’t help but scowl as he finishes adding ingredients to the stew, moving to the sink to wash the cutting board and knife.

“Maybe you should get your own pet, and then you can stop coming over here and bothering Dori and me.” They both know Minho’s not serious, but Jisung huffs anyway, running his fingers through Dori’s fur.

“You’d miss me too much, hyung-ah.”

Minho ignores him.

“Dinner will be ready soon - the least you can do if you’re going to take advantage of my hospitality and my skills in bed is feeding my cat while I finish the dishes.”

They joke about their relationship a lot, but it’s not a joke to Minho, not really. They’ve only known each other a few months, just since Minho moved into the apartment next to Jisung’s, but they’ve been sleeping together for almost as long, and keeping his feelings in check has been an increasingly difficult struggle.

At least he’s good at maintaining a straight face while using deadpan humor as a coping mechanism. He might be getting better at it as time goes on, actually.

Minho doesn’t think he’ll ever forget the first time they kissed, both of them giggling from the plum soju that Changbin had brought for Minho’s apartment-warming party. Everyone else had left, trickling out the door, and Minho and Jisung had collapsed onto Minho’s couch together, laughing about something - that part was fuzzy - but suddenly Minho had a lap full of Jisung and god, his  _ mouth, _ his mouth was so  _ sweet. _ They’d only known each other for a week and a half at that point but Minho didn’t hesitate to kiss Jisung back, not for a second.

That was the only time Jisung ever stayed.

It haunts Minho, every time they’re together, whether or not they end up in bed. He thinks about Jisung, dreams about him, curled up in his bed, tangled in his rumpled sheets, and wishes that he could have that every morning.

But Jisung always goes home, to the other side of the wall, and Minho always lets him, even though it’s getting harder and harder every time.

Minho thinks about it as Jisung feeds Dori, not needing to question where the kibbles are or how much to dole out; could he ask Jisung to stay? What would Jisung think, what would he do?

His brain is full of  _ what-ifs _ and  _ maybes  _ as he finishes the dishes, the questions following him like a dark cloud as he moves the doenjang-jjigae to the table, setting the pot on top of a trivet to keep from scorching the table’s surface, adding bowls of rice and pre-made banchan from the fridge.

He knows that Jisung wouldn’t get upset, even if he didn’t want to change the course of their non-relationship like Minho longed to. He would be nice about it - probably  _ too  _ nice, would let Minho down gently, and he’d probably still spend all of his time with Minho anyway even if they had to stop touching each other in any non-platonic way. Still, even if he knows Jisung wouldn’t judge him or do anything to hurt him, the fear of the unknown manages to override the dubious possibility of a good outcome in Minho’s mind.

His brain quiets down while they eat, and he focuses on the doenjang-jjigae and the jangajji and on watching how cute Jisung is when he eats, talking around mouthfuls of the stew, his cheeks stuffed full of food. Somehow he gets onto a tangent about a new drama that neither of them have started watching, and by the time they finish eating, Jisung has convinced Minho that they have to at least watch the first episode to see if they like it before he’s pushing him towards the living room, insisting that he’s always faster at doing the dishes anyway.

(Minho’s not sure that that’s strictly true, but he doesn’t feel like arguing about it.)

Minho queues up the show, and Jisung joins him on the couch a few minutes later, hands still damp as he makes himself comfortable half in Minho’s lap. They watch three episodes, flying through them before Minho finally has to untangle their limbs to get up off of the couch and stretch.

Jisung whines, but Minho ignores him to go get water, leaning his hip against the counter as he drinks, watching Jisung over the edge of the glass.

The tv clicks off as Jisung drops the remote into the couch cushions, standing and heading into Minho’s bedroom, shedding his shirt as he goes, barely raising an eyebrow at Minho as he passes him. Minho pretends not to stare at the planes of his body, forcing himself to finish his drink and set the glass in the sink before he follows Jisung like they both knew he would.

By the time he makes it into the bedroom, Jisung has made himself comfortable on Minho’s bed, leaning back on his elbows, his jeans unbuttoned and lying low on his hips.

“Someone’s presumptuous.”

Jisung’s lips curve up smugly. “Do you want me to go?”

Minho climbs on top of him and shuts him up with his lips, because it’s the only option.

He lets Jisung’s mouth and Jisung’s hands distract him, and it’s almost enough, Jisung pressing him into the sheets and rocking into him until they’re both satiated, loose-limbed and breathless and tangled together.

Reality comes screaming back when Jisung eventually swings his legs off of the bed to stand, tugging his clothes back on as Minho wraps the blanket around himself, suddenly too cold, floating desolately on the ocean of his mattress.

“Stay.”

The single whispered word leaves his mouth unbidden before he can stop it, and Minho snaps his mouth shut, feeling hot and cold all over, his limbs shaky with fear. He can hear his own voice echoing in his head, mocking him.

Jisung goes still in the doorway for a split second before he turns around. “What?”

Minho clenches his jaw. Saying it once was painful enough; repeating it might actually kill him. He sits stiffly in the middle of the bed, his whole body poised for fight-or-flight as Jisung takes one step towards him, and then another.

“Hyung?”

He can’t do it, can’t bring himself to say anything as he stares at Jisung in the semi-darkness of the bedroom, his body haloed by the warm light that streams through the door from the kitchen.

Jisung climbs back onto the bed, kneeling in front of him, hands dipping into the blanket to seek out Minho’s own.

“You want me to stay?”

Minho looks away, but he nods all the same, an awkward jerk of his head confirming his moment of weakness, bearing his soul as Jisung’s warm fingers wrap around his wrists.

“Hyung, will you say something?” Jisung sounds almost as afraid as Minho feels, his grasp tightening reflexively.

“What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know.” Jisung laughs, short and jittery. “That I’m not reading this wrong?”

Minho twists his hands in Jisung’s grip so that he can wrap his fingers tentatively around Jisung’s wrists in return, something about Jisung’s hummingbird pulse soothing Minho through his skin.

“I don’t know how you could be reading this wrong, Sung, but I don’t think you are.”

“Okay, great, that’s  _ great, _ really excellent, now will you please look at me so I can kiss you before I go insane?”

Minho’s the one laughing now, a near-hysterical sound bubbling out of him as he turns his head to meet Jisung’s eyes; his laughter swells as Jisung tugs him forward by their shared hold on each other’s arms to press their mouths together.

He quiets soon enough, though he’s still smiling into the kiss as Jisung peels the blanket away and tips Minho back into the pillows, fitting his body into the cradle of Minho’s hips like he’s making a home for himself.

Maybe he is.

**Author's Note:**

> Come yell at me on twitter (nsfw) [@bulletfic](https://twitter.com/bulletfic) ♡


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